


Brown vs. Jones vs. Stokes

by VicXntric



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 06:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicXntric/pseuds/VicXntric
Summary: Mr. Brown, I believe you know Mr. Gambling Jones; Mr. Jones, meet your match. His name is Nick Stokes.written in 2006





	Brown vs. Jones vs. Stokes

Warrick had no idea where it came from and that was unnerving, because usually he could think of _something_ that had set it off. For the past month, there hadn't been anything--no conflicts with co-workers; no case that was unusually stressful; hell, none of his recent cases had even taken place in casinos. It had been more than three years and although he'd had the occasional slip, he hadn't had any of these crazy, out-of-nowhere itches since his first few months away from the tables and sports books. 

He paced his living room, expertly shuffling a deck of cards in a futile attempt to assuage the craving. He knew very well that he probably shouldn't even own a deck of cards, but sometimes just handling them could make the itch subside. That wasn't the case today, so Warrick very deliberately set them back down. He didn't dare turn on his television, because he knew coming across a game could easily set him off when he was like this.

It seemed as though he'd have to stay barricaded inside his apartment, telling himself over and over that even going past a sports book would be a bad idea. The worst part about not having a trigger was that he didn't have anything to think about except how easy it would be and how lucrative it _could_ be to place just _one little bet._

When his cell burbled, Warrick reached for it eagerly. "Brown."

"Hey."

"Hey," he recognized Nick's voice immediately. "What's up?"

There were a few beats of silence. "Well, you don't _sound_ ticked at me."

"Why would I be?" Warrick frowned.

"You tell me," Nick said, sounding relieved. "You ignored me when I asked if you wanted to go for breakfast. And when I asked if you'd heard me. _And_ when I asked if you were okay."

"When? Today?"

"Yeah," Nick laughed a little. "In the locker room after shift."

Warrick wiped a hand down his face. While it was true that he'd been trying not to look at Nick _quite_ so much in the locker room lately--and had the sneaking suspicion Nick had been equally cautious--he always spoke to his fellow CSI. The craving obviously had a stronger hold on him than he'd realized. "Sorry, bro. I was a little out of it today."

"Yeah, that was my second guess. You looked...um...twitchy."

"Twitchy?"

"Well, you didn't look like yourself."

At one time, Warrick would have given Nick a jibe about watching him, but not anymore. There was an unspoken attraction there they both acknowledged and had become fairly adept at working around. "I'm not doing so good today." He had no idea if Nick would even pick up on what the problem was, since he hadn't needed to bring it up often in the past few years.

"Yeah, I wondered. I wanted to set things right if you were mad or make sure you were okay. So," another embarrassed laugh. "Look out your window."

"Hell, Nick," Warrick laughed, going to the window. Looking down, he waved at Nick who was standing by his Ranger in a visitor's parking space. "Get on up here, man."

He closed his cell phone, still shaking his head, and went to his fridge to get a couple of beers. He hesitated briefly, not because it was early morning, but because a couple of beers was what put the whole what-we're-not-talking-about thing between them in the first place. More specifically, a few too many beers and one too many barbs from Warrick about being such a Boy Scout had done it, provoking Nick into blurting out that he'd been with men. That given the choice, he _preferred_ being with men. In the next split-second, realizing what he'd done, Nick had panicked, and tried to take it back. Feeling bad and now wanting to reassure his friend, Warrick admitted that he could go either way, too--and had on several occasions. Other than some teasing about who might have been checking out whom all these years, nothing had happened since.

"Come on in," Warrick said in response to Nick's knock, deciding that this wasn't exactly the best thing to be thinking about, either.

Nick was just shrugging off his jacket when Warrick emerged from the kitchen. "Hey."

Warrick handed him a beer and watched as the dark eyes flicked toward the deck of cards on the dining room table. Oh yeah, his buddy knew what was up.

"What's going on, Rick?"

Nick might have known what was up but had apparently decided to start out casual. Warrick dropped into his recliner, "I don't know what to tell you."

"Is it..?" Nick hesitated and Warrick knew he was trying to find some way to relate, because that's what Nick did. He was forever putting himself in the other guy's shoes, and was good at it, but he had no way of understanding addiction. It was something he still had the tendency to be judgmental about in people, although Warrick knew he made the effort not to be. "You're, uh, is this about gambling?"

"Yeah." Warrick had to give Nick credit in that he never pretended to understand--which could be more aggravating than people who judged. Rather, the Texan tended to avoid the issue unless, like now, he sensed trouble. "I don't know why it's so bad all of a sudden."

"Is it that Rule of Three? It's been three years, hasn't it?"

"Rule of Three?" What the hell was the guy talking about? "Three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food...three years without betting?"

"No," Nick smiled uneasily. "I've read that some people think that the toughest time when you're...um...quitting something are in threes. Three days, three weeks, three months, three years are when it's especially difficult." He shrugged and took a large swallow of beer. "Well, it's probably a myth. Certainly can't be proven or anything. Just something I--well."

Warrick smiled, any defensiveness he would have usually felt in the situation eclipsed by his gratitude that Nick was trying so hard to understand. "I guess that's as good an explanation as any," he offered, not wanting to shoot down his friend's attempt.

Nick nodded, but he obviously realized his first shot had been a miss. "What are you..? Is there anything you can do? Anything I can do to help?"

"I'm staying in," Warrick said, taking a sip of his beer. "I'm not sure that's the best way to go about it, but it's all I can do right now. It's probably best that I'm not anywhere near temptation."

"Does it...make it worse if you talk about it?" Nick asked hesitantly.

"Only one way to find out." If Nick was making the effort, Warrick decided, he could, too. "What do you want to know?"

Nick hesitated again, and Warrick couldn't help admiring his tenacity. He was so obviously uncomfortable, but just as obviously determined. This was nothing like the last time he and Nick had broached the subject--or hadn't broached the subject, such as the case may be. After the case with the singer-addict, Warrick had already given in to the craving and was sitting at a table before Nick found him. That had been a case of damage control more than anything else. This was Nick wanting to make sure Warrick didn't give in to temptation and have another slip. A preemptive strike. "Is it the betting or the game?" Nick finally asked.

"Hunh," was all Warrick could think to say, floored by the question. It was a really good question, and had the added bonus of forcing Warrick's attention away from the itch. "I don't think I even know. I do know I didn't even want to watch a game on TV in case it made me want to bet, but you mean is it the card game or the bets, right?"

"Yeah," Nick glanced at the deck of cards again.

Warrick followed his gaze, "Sometimes they...sometimes just fooling with them is enough, but not today."

"What if you didn't play for money? Or would that not make a difference?"

"Not play for money?" Warrick asked, almost adding-- _What the hell is the point, then?_

"Technically, it wouldn't be gambling then, would it?"

Warrick shook his head, reminded himself Nick was trying to be helpful, but just couldn't resist. "So we play for toothpicks? Pretzels? Is that what you frat boys did? Had the Great M&M Poker Tourney?"

Nick nearly spit out his beer. "Oh, yeah," he said dryly. "That just what frat boys do. Man, I'm trying to help you out and I get all this abuse?" He shifted forward on the couch, still smiling a little, "So I guess you're saying it wouldn't help."

"It...might," Warrick said, but couldn't keep the dubious note out of his voice.

"That's cool," Nick got up and walked over to the table. "You want to give it a shot?" he flipped through the deck with one hand.

"You really expect me to play for M&M's?"

"Hey, the M&M's were your idea," Nick smirked. "When I was learning how to play, we'd just play for air."

"For air?"

Nick shot him a warning look. "Don't even. I was only eleven and Mom would have had a fit if she thought they had me playing for money."

"Who taught you? Your brother or your dad?" Warrick got up and joined him at the table.

"My sister, Sammie. Don't," he added immediately, still warning.

Warrick couldn't help grinning. The craving was still present, but not nearly as bad. Talking around it as they were did seem to help, and he wanted to keep going with that. "Playing for air, that's--" he scrubbed at his hair. "I don't know, Nicky."

"It's okay," Nick assured him. He thumbed through the deck again, then froze. Then turned red. "There's...uh..." He ducked his head and let out a nervous laugh. "There's always strip poker."

The beer bottle slid from his fingers, and Warrick tightened his grip just in time to keep from dropping it. "What did you say?" 

Nick cleared his throat several times, and kept his eyes on the deck of cards. "I said--what about strip poker?" his voice rose with uncertainty toward the end.

Warrick didn't speak, waiting until Nick lifted his head. Meeting his friend's eyes, he could easily see the scared-but-hopeful expression there. He had to give Nick his due--the Texan had definitely managed to take his mind off betting in a hurry. Nick was starting to look exceptionally nervous and Warrick realized he'd better think of something to say.

It wasn't easy, so he fell back on their old stand-by--competition.

"Hell, no matter what we play for, you know you're gonna get trounced. So if it's strip poker, you might as well just give me your clothes now." Suddenly Warrick understood the look in the dark eyes, because as soon as the words left his mouth, dozens of butterflies exploded in his stomach.

_Shocked_ did not even begin to describe Nick's expression, but he soon recognized Warrick's words for what they were--a dare. His chin jutted slightly, and taking a deep breath, he pulled his t-shirt over his head in one fluid motion.

Sports books, gaming tables, even the cards abruptly disappeared from Warrick's mind. It wasn't that he hadn't seen Nick shirtless before--he had, plenty of times. It wasn't even that he hadn't seen Nick shirtless in his apartment before--Nick had crashed there after being stalked. None of those other times made his mouth bone dry and his dick rock hard, though. But then, he hadn't had a stunning vision of smooth skin over sculpted muscle being so blatantly offered to him any of those other times. Involuntarily, he took a step closer.

Nick's tongue snuck out to moisten his lips as he smiled slightly. He was obviously pleased with Warrick's reaction, and hooked his thumbs in his belt, able to hide most of his nervousness behind his challenging posture. "If you're so great at poker, then it's only fair you give me a head start."

His hands practically moving of their own accord, Warrick made short work of his buttons and stripped off his shirt as he advanced on Nick. He stopped when they were less than an inch away from being skin to skin. "I should give you a what?"

Nick's breathing sped up, and he lifted his head, but when Warrick dipped down for a kiss, he shifted and brushed his lips teasingly along Warrick's cheek instead. Then he went for the kiss, but Warrick pulled back and softly kissed the tip of his nose. They fenced playfully until their lips met, and Nick let out a low moan that echoed Warrick's feelings exactly.

Warrick had fantasized plenty of times about getting his hands on all that tantalizing skin and muscle, but one thing he'd somehow forgotten to factor in was what the sensation of Nick's hands on him would do to his equilibrium. Those fingers that were so adept at collecting evidence explored his body curiously, cautious yet certain and undoubtedly enthusiastic. 

Eventually, Nick worked his way up to Warrick's shoulders and wrapped both arms around the taller man's neck as he deepened the kiss, leaning trustingly against him. 

Panting, Warrick had to break off the kiss and bent to bury his face in the crook of Nick's neck. Out of nowhere, he was hit by a wave of longing so deep that he'd barely known it existed, had never realized idea how powerful it truly was. 

"Rick..." Nick murmured, moving his lips down Warrick's neck and along his collarbone. His hand slipped down Warrick's back, stroking and kneading gently.

Warrick could feel how hard Nick was through their jeans, but Nick was being so careful, so gentle with his touches that it was driving him insane. So he let one arm snake around the trim waist and lifted the Texan slightly while he gripped the short hair and pulled Nick's head back so he had better access to the cords of that tempting neck. "How far do you want this to go?" he spoke with his lips pressed to the hollow of Nick's throat.

"I don't care," Nick sounded a bit dazed. "Just please...don't stop."

Releasing Nick's hair, Warrick fumbled between them for his belt. It wasn't easy because he didn't want to loosen his hold on Nick. He wasn't making much progress and finally Nick freed himself and moved back slightly to unfasten his jeans and belt. That seemed like an excellent idea and Warrick quickly followed suit, stripping off his jeans and shorts. 

Some tiny, still-coherent part of Warrick's mind marveled that there was no embarrassment. He didn't feel even a hint of it, and if the eager fingers that grasped his hard cock were anything to go by, neither did Nick. He returned the favor, palming Nick's cock, prompting a low groan and making the shorter man press his face against Warrick's chest. 

"I don't think we're gonna get much past this," Warrick's voice was hoarse.

"Not this time, anyway," Nick agreed breathlessly, making Warrick's heart surge.

Flicking his thumb over the head of Nick's cock, Warrick then reached both hands around to cup the firm, beautifully rounded cheeks that had tempted him for so long. He lifted Nick so that their groins were pressed together, feeling Nick's hand still between them.

As always, they worked together seamlessly, Nick balancing with one hand gripping Warrick's shoulder and the other lining up their erections while Warrick held their bodies close. Nick bucked against him a few times, unable to get much traction when his feet weren't completely on the floor. Warrick could feel the tight glutes flex in his hands and it nearly finished him. When he began thrusting against Nick, Nick quickly found and followed his rhythm. Warrick could hardly believe that just humping was making him feel like an out-of-control teenager.

Nick had both arms around him again, chanting Warrick's name in time with their movements. The hand between them was no longer necessary, their straining bodies provided enough friction to take them to the brink and send them over.

Stumbling back a few steps, Warrick felt the edge of a chair against his legs and sat down hard, pulling Nick with him in a tangle of limbs. Sitting in one of his dining room chairs, covered in sweat and semen with an equally messy Nick Stokes sprawled on top of him, Warrick had the vague notion he should feel at least a _little_ awkward. But the sensation of Nick's rapid breath against his neck was soothing and helped slow his rapid pulse, leaving him comfortably relaxed. "Well," was all he could manage.

"No kidding," Nick agreed as though Warrick had actually relayed something coherent.

"It was very noble of you to sacrifice your virtue for my sake."

A stronger puff of air as Nick let out a soft laugh. "It was, wasn't it?" They lapsed into a contented silence broken only when Nick shifted suddenly, "Dude." He sounded as though he'd just realized it--"I'm sitting in your _lap._ "

He seemed so amazed, so affronted, that Warrick started laughing and pressed his face against Nick's shoulder in a vain attempt to stifle it. "After what we just did, _that's_ a problem for you?"

"Not a problem," Nick was unable to hold back a snicker of his own at his reaction. "I just--I've never sat in a guy's lap before." 

When Nick moved as though to stand, Warrick tightened his hold. "I kinda like you here," he rubbed his stubbled chin against a bare pec to emphasize his point.

"Okay then..." Nick shivered with pleasure.

Warrick kissed Nick's nearest bicep, then his shoulder, "Right now, though, I want to get cleaned up. Time to hit the shower." Nick tried to stand again, but Warrick refused to release him, "You're not going anywhere, are you?"

"I'm gonna let you go take your shower."

"What if I suddenly want to make a bet while I'm in there?"

Grinning, Nick acted as though the question were perfectly normal rather than utterly ridiculous. "I guess I'd better go with you to make sure," he said seriously, toying with Warrick's dread locks.

"I'd appreciate it."

"Yeah?" In their current position, he was taller, so Nick bent to kiss his new lover, a challenge glinting in his dark eyes again. "How much would you appreciate it?"

"Why don't I show you?"

"I like that idea," Nick replied with several more kisses.

Warrick had the feeling he'd found an addiction that would actually be good for him.

  


END


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